“I thought so big that I lost sight of what I want my life to be about.”
“Your life is about helping people,” he said fiercely. “You’ve never for a single moment lost sight of that.”
“It was the scope.” She curled her hands in her lap. “I don’t need to fill auditoriums. I don’t need a brownstone near Central Park or a closetful of designer clothes. In the end, all that suffocated me. My career, my possessions-all of them stole the gift of time from me, and I lost my vision.”
“Now you have it back.” It was a statement, not a question. He understood that something important had changed inside her.
“I have it back.” She’d gotten more satisfaction helping Tracy and Harry than she’d gotten from her last lecture at Carnegie Hall. She didn’t want to be a guru to the masses anymore. “I’m opening a small counseling practice. No place fancy-a working-class neighborhood. If people can’t pay, that’s all right. If they can, so much the better. I’ll be living simply.”
His eyes narrowed with his hit man’s gaze. “I’m afraid I have some news that’s going to put a crimp in those simple plans.”
She’d embraced the concept of chaos, and she waited to hear what he had to say.
He moved close enough to loom over her, something she now found more interesting than threatening. “You managed to piss everybody off when you stole the statue.”
“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it.”
“Nobody knew that, and now the locals want to lock you up for the next ten years.”
“Ten years?”
“More or less. I thought about talking to the American embassy, but that seemed risky.”
“You could mention how much money I gave the IRS this year.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring up your criminal past.” He rested a shoulder against the graffiti-covered wall, looking more confident than when he’d arrived. “If you were an Italian citizen, you probably wouldn’t have been arrested, but the fact that you’re a foreigner makes it more complicated.”
“It sounds like I might need a lawyer.”
“Lawyers tend to confuse things in Italy.”
“I’m supposed to stay in jail?”
“Not if we follow my plan. It’s a little drastic, but I have every reason to believe it should get you out fairly quickly.”
“Yet I find myself curiously reluctant to hear what it is.”
“I have dual citizenship. You know that my mother was Italian, but I don’t know if I told you I was born in Italy.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“She was at a house party in Rome when I was born. I’m an Italian citizen, and I’m afraid that means we’ll have to get married.”
That brought her up off the bed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve spoken to the local officials, and in their own way they let it be known that they wouldn’t keep you in jail if you were the wife of a citizen. And since you’re pregnant anyway…”
“I’m not pregnant.”
He regarded her steadily from beneath those angled eyebrows. “Apparently you’ve forgotten what we were doing a few hours ago and exactly where that statue was when we were doing it.”
“You don’t believe in the statue.”
“Since when?” He threw up one hand. “I can’t imagine what kind of hell-raiser we conceived up there. When I think about that storm…” He shuddered, then bore down on her. “Do you have any idea what it’s going to take to raise a child like that? Patience, for one thing. Luckily, you’ve got a lot of that. Toughness-God knows, you’re tough. And wisdom. Well, enough said about that. All in all, you’re up to the challenge.”
She stared at him.
“I intend to do my part, don’t think I don’t. I’m damn good at potty training.”
This was what happened when you welcomed chaos into your life. She refused to blink. “I’m supposed to forget that you ran off like a coward when I got to be too much for you?”
“I’d appreciate it if you would.” He regarded her with something like entreaty. “We both know I’m still a work in progress. And I’ve got a great present to help you forget.”
“You bought me a present?”
“Not exactly bought. One of those phone calls I made after you were thrown in jail was to Howard Jenks.”
Her stomach sank. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to make that film.”
“Oh, I’m going to make the film. But Oliver Craig and I are switching parts.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m playing Nathan.”
“Nathan’s the hero.”
“Exactly.”
“He’s a dweeb.”
“Let’s just say he’s testosterone-challenged.”
She sank down onto the bed and tried to envision Ren as the bookish, bumbling, mild-mannered Nathan. Slowly, she shook her head. “You’ll be perfect.”
“I think so, too,” he said with satisfaction. “Fortunately, Jenks is a man of vision, and he got it right away. Craig’s doing cartwheels. Wait till you see him. I told you he looks like a choirboy. Just thinking about him playing Street gives me the chills.”
She looked up at him. “You did this for me?”
He wrestled with his answer, then looked vaguely embarrassed. “It was mostly for me. I’m not giving up playing bad guys, don’t think that for a minute, but I couldn’t handle Street. Besides, I need to stretch. I’m not all bad. It’s time I accepted that. And you, my love, are not all good. Witness which one of us is currently incarcerated.”
“It’s giving me a chance to think about an idea for a new book.”
“What happened to the old one? The one on crisis management?”
“I finally figured out that not every crisis can be managed.” She gazed at the cell around her. “As much as we want to keep ourselves safe, we can’t protect ourselves from everything. If we want to embrace life, we also have to embrace chaos.”
“Getting married to me sounds like a good start.”
“Except that chaos has its own way of finding us. We don’t have to set ourselves up for it.”
“Still…”
“I can’t imagine how difficult a marriage between us would be,” she said. “The logistics alone are impossible. We both have our careers. And where would we live?”
“You’ll figure it out in no time. You can start making lists. You still remember how, don’t you? And while you’re doing that, I’ll take care of the really important stuff.”
“Such as?”
“I’m designing our kitchen. Everything’s going to be state-of-the-art. I want a low counter at one end so our kids can cook, too, although we’re keeping that little bugger you’re carrying away from knives. A big eating area with-”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“I’m fairly sure you are. Chalk it up to male intuition.”
“Why the change of heart, Ren? What happened to you?”
“You happened to me.” He came over and sat next to her on the cot, not touching her, just looking deep into her eyes. “You scare me to death, you know. When you stormed into my life, you turned everything inside out. You upset all the things I believed about myself and made me think in new ways. I know who I used to be, but I’m finally ready to figure out who I am. Cynicism gets tiring, Isabel, and you’ve… rested me.” The cot springs squawked as he shot up, turning fierce without warning. “And don’t you dare tell me you’ve stopped loving me back, because you’re still a better person than I am, and I’m counting on you to take more care with my heart than I took with yours.”
“I see.”
He began to pace. “I know that marriage to me is going to be a mess. Two careers. Kids. Conflicting travel schedules. You’ll have to deal with the fallout from the press I’ve been trying so hard to avoid. There’ll be paparazzi hiding in the bushes, tabloid stories every six months saying I’m beating you or you’re doing drugs. I’ll have location shoots and women coming on to me. Every time I do a love scene with some beautiful actress, you’ll give me all the reasons it doesn’t bother you, and then I’ll find the sleeves cut off my favorite shirts.” He rounded on her and jabbed a finger in her direction. “But the woman who stood on that wall this afternoon is strong enough to face an army. I want to hear you tell me right now that I didn’t leave that woman behind on the mountaintop.”